


late night nostalgia

by humanveil



Category: Real Person Fiction, RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: M/M, Phone Calls & Telephones, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 15:48:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12436107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanveil/pseuds/humanveil
Summary: Danny calls in the early hours of the morning.





	late night nostalgia

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of a mix of all the recent Biadore requests on Artificial Queens, ft. boy Biadore, both of them comforting each other, and a suggestion of phone sex. It was meant to be more smutty, but then the feelings hit and now there's no smut at all, so oops. 
> 
> *Set during the last week or so.

Danny calls in the early hours of the morning.

It makes Roy’s phone light up with his ridiculous contact photo, the time 3:54AM flashing above their faces. Danny had changed it when he wasn’t looking, and, to be perfectly honest, Roy doesn’t know how to undo it.

Not that he actually wants to—it’s a cute picture. They’re in drag, Adore’s hands held in Bianca’s, the both of them smiling; big and bright and beautiful. Someone had caught them off guard, Roy recalls. They’re not looking at the camera, but instead are focused on each other; like the rest of the busy background wasn’t there at all. It’s disgustingly cute, really, and he always feels a little ridiculous for loving it so much, but love it he does.

His phone continues to vibrate, and Roy answers, because of course he does. He’s been so busy lately, and he knows Danny has been, too. They’ve hardly been able to keep up with each other, despite how hard they’ve been trying, and if a 4AM phone call is what it takes, then fuck it.

“Hey, sexy lady,” Danny greets, and Roy can hear the grin in his voice, can imagine him—laid out on his bed, an arm flung over his face, his phone loosely pressed to his ear. His voice is soft, is tired, and Roy imagines that his actions would be languid and lazy, too.

It makes him grin despite himself, makes him half bury his face in the pillow to hide it, despite no one being there to see it. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Roy answers. Never mind that he should be, too, or that he almost was.

“Can’t,” Danny groans, and it’s that needy little groan—that groan that would mean _cuddle me, kiss me, pay attention to me_ if Roy was in the bed next to him. It makes Roy’s fingers itch, makes him want to fly to wherever the fuck Danny is now and do just that. “Miss you.”

Roy exhales slowly, loud enough that Danny can probably hear. “I miss you, too,” he says, and this time nothing else follows. No bitch, no joke, nothing to take away from it. It’s not his usual style, but he’s tired and sore and it’s _true_. He misses Danny more than he’d ever imagined he would. “What’ve you been up to?”

The question sends Danny into a long rant, and Roy just settles against the mattress and listens. He hums when appropriate, offers his two cents when it seems like Danny wants it, but mostly he just lets Danny talk, lets him let go of all his pent-up frustration. He tells Roy about his flights, the hotels, the tour drama.

“At least I get to see my Mom,” Danny ends with a sigh, and Roy can hear the faint sound of bed springs, like Danny has just adjusted himself on the mattress. “I miss her.”

Roy smiles. He’s seen the tweets, has been checking up on him in between filming, and he knows Danny’s looking forward to it. “Give her a kiss for me,” he murmurs.

“Oh, you know it,” Danny says, and Roy can hear his smile again. It’s amazing, how they know each other well enough to pick up on body language through the phone. “What about you?” Danny prompts. “Katya drive you mad yet?”

Roy snorts, pulls the blanket up above his shoulders. “You did that years ago,” he tells him, smiling when Danny laughs.

Truthfully, it’s been fun. Katya’s as mad as a bloody hatter, but she’s entertaining to be around. She distracts him, keeps him busy, doesn’t let him _mope_.

“And the filming?” Danny asks.

Roy lets his eyes shut when he talks, recounting the funnier stories for Danny. It’s nice, the way Danny seems to have a million questions, the way he wants to know everything. Roy knows his curiosity isn’t fake, knows Danny would be happy to listen to him give a minute-by-minute recount of the past month’s events if he chose to. Danny might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but he is the most affectionate—does care the most, and Roy loves him for it.

“Aren’t you tired?” Danny asks eventually, once Roy’s voice has died down. Roy sighs, shrugs even though Danny can’t see him.

“No more than usual,” he says, and Danny snorts from the other end of the phone.

“Fucking liar,” he says. And then, “I’d take care of you, if I was there.”

“Oh?” Roy rolls from his side to his back, stares up at the ceiling. “And how would you do that?”

“I’d suck your dick,” Danny deadpans, and then follows it with a loud laugh. Roy grins despite himself, his spare hand reaching to rub at his face, the gesture one of fond exasperation.

“How thoughtful.”

“It is!” Danny says, and he’s still laughing. “You’re an old man, you pass out five minutes after you come.”

Roy laughs, his loud cackle filling the empty room. “Bitch,” he says, but he’s not mad in the slightest. Quite the opposite, really.

“Cunt,” Danny shoots back.

Their laughter eventually fades, and Roy can hear Danny stifle a yawn on the other end, can easily imagine what he’d look like—all cute and cuddly and curled up around an abundance of pillows. He wishes he could be there; wishes they didn’t have to spend another night away from each other.

“You should sleep,” he says. There’s light filtering in through his own window, the edges emitting a soft glow from behind his curtains. He has to be up soon, even if Danny doesn’t.

“Mmm,” Danny agrees, but it’s reluctant. Like he doesn’t want to go. “Wish you were here.”

Roy swallows, lets his eyes fall shut again. Danny’s open affection is something he’s still trying to get used to, even after all these years.

“I know,” Roy tells him. “Soon.”

“Promise?” Danny’s voice is small, like the thinks maybe he shouldn’t ask, and Roy’s cold, dead heart warms at the sound.

“I promise, angel,” he says, voice quiet. He knows he probably shouldn’t—his schedule for the next few months is crazy—but he figures he’ll find a way to make it work. Figures that they have to.

Danny hums on the other end of the phone, quiet and content, and Roy listens to his soft breathing, knows that he could never regret the decision to go and see Danny, regardless of what else he has going on.

“Now,” he says, when the silence stretches, when he grows almost uncomfortable with the reality of his feelings. “What’s this about sucking my dick?”

Danny’s laugh comes through from the other end of the phone. “You want a verbal demonstration?”  

Roy grins. “Now, _that_ might just be worth staying awake for.”

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on [tumblr!](https://delectabledelrio.tumblr.com)


End file.
